Stone and Steel: Vampires of Blood and Bones

by B. A. Stretke

  Ira smiled as he opened the car door. “So we’re handling this ourselves, then?” He asked clearly excited about the prospect of taking these men out.

  Silas nodded. "There are approximately thirty in total, according to Caleb. We'll handle this unless they split up and then we may need to call in assistance."

  They were about to get into their car when something in the air reached out and touched Silas. It was similar to the feeling he got when he initially entered the house but stronger and more focused. It stopped him instantly; it was a feeling of wrongness, something needed his attention. The feeling slowly engulfed him, and he abruptly shut the door and stepped around it, staring at the house the entire time.

  “What is it?” Ira asked as he walked up to stand beside him.

  “We need to search the house again.” He said and started walking quickly towards the front doors. Ira followed without question.

  …

  Wolfe could hear them moving around, damn they'd returned. He'd hoped they were gone for good on the run like Raymond had said to someone yesterday in the adjacent room. They feared someone named DuCane, and it gave him a modicum of satisfaction to know that there was someone who brought fear to the hearts of these monsters.

  Wolfe was locked in this closet chained to the wall for the convenience and use of a monster. Raymond had taken a lot from him several hours ago, but he would soon be back for more. The guy was brutal and always hungry. The blood loss was making him light-headed as always, but he tried to remain focused.

  He tested his chains there was a little give, but the cuffs on his wrists cut into his flesh whenever he pulled on them. Maybe in time, he could pull himself free. There was no telling how long he'd been in here; there were no windows, no way to tell day from night just perpetual darkness unless Raymond wanted to play. Wolfe rolled to his left and tried to get to his feet.

  He could hear someone just outside the door, and when it opened, he was going to be ready. He wasn't going to be taken easy this time, the drugs had worn off and his mind, although not clear could be directed. There was only one goal, and that was to inflict as much pain and damage, as he was, could before they finished him off. If he caused enough trouble maybe Raymond would just kill him and get it over with. Suffering the slow death of sitting in this dark room, letting that deranged beast drain his life away was not how he wanted to leave this world.

  "This wardrobe is on wheels," Caleb stated when he saw the marks on the floor indicating that it had been moved, often. He started to swing it wide away from the wall. Behind it was another locked door. "Too many locked doors in this house." He said as he broke the lock and pushed the door open, revealing a dark and putrid smelling closet. The moment he stepped inside, he was tackled, the person fought like their life depended upon it and tried to wrap their chains around Caleb's neck.

  He could have easily thwarted the man, but the fact that he was human came through the thick stench that permeated the room. Caleb didn't want to hurt him any more than he probably already was, so he stood and bent forward, attempting to get him off his feet and loosen his hold. Others rushed into the room and attempted to pull the man off Caleb, but the man was raging. "Don't hurt him," Caleb instructed as they all tried to subdue the wild man.

  Silas entered through the front doors and instantly felt the urge to go to the third floor. The need to hurry overcame him as a strange frenzy seemed to wash over him. He had to get there, and he had to get there now. He broke into a run when they reached the third-floor hallway with Ira running behind him.

  The bedroom was thundering with activity everyone crowded in a small closet off to the side. Silas didn't stop or slow down, he went straight for the melee turning and lunging into the small space. One by one, he tossed men aside and out the door as he made his way inside. He knew all these men they were friends and colleagues, but he could not stop himself from aggressively confronting them, over what, he wasn't sure.

  Ira the good friend that he was, helped him without question clearing the small room and defending the suffering human that crouched on the floor ready to do battle with the next person who got close enough.

  "What's the matter!" Caleb shouted as Silas grabbed him by the collar and tossed him to Ira, who then tossed him out the door. "We're not hurting him. He's out of his mind we were just trying to subdue him so he could receive treatment." Caleb explained but did not re-enter the room. Everyone waited to wonder what about this half-dead feral human had Silas acting so antagonistic towards them.

  Silence fell as everyone waited. Silas felt the eyes of the man upon him questioning calculating and waiting to attack. Silas moved to his left and crouched down just out of reach of the scared man. He was dirty and malnourished and still the brightness of his dark blue eyes shown through and brought a striking ethereal beauty to his face. He was young, but he had lived a life that was hard and had culminated in this disrespect and degradation. He'd been brought down, but he wasn't defeated. He was fascinating.

  Silas was intrigued by his own reaction to this man, and he could only stare in wonder as the truth came to him gradually as the scent of his beloved drifted softly on the air. "They're gone, the men who kidnapped you and tortured you are gone. The house was empty when we arrived apart from their victims." Silas spoke clear but also softly, not wanting to jar the man more than they had already. The man did not speak and didn't let his guard down. Tension filled the room as did suspicion.

  "There were six victims in the salon on the first floor. Three were still alive, and we took them to the medical facility in Toledo. There were three found in the basement, and only one of them survived." Still, no indication that he was listening or even hearing what Silas was saying. His eyes remained fixed on Silas, but his awareness was for the entire area. Silas could see his thought processes as he studied him and the room.

  "My name is Silas Patronne from Coven DuCane. Ira and I," He glanced back at Ira, who stood a few feet behind him. "We came here as a favor. The brother of a friend disappeared from the Silk Street Bar, and we were asked to find him. He was one of the survivors in the Salon. Will you tell me your name?" Silas decided that perhaps direct questions would get a response.

  “You are DuCane?” He asked his voice was ragged and horse like the words were drug over gravel. Silas looked back at Ira who disappeared for a moment and then returned with a water bottle. Silas handed the bottle to the man setting it within his reach.

  "I am Silas, Louis DuCane is my master." Silas clarified. "You know DuCane?" Silas asked as he watched the man eye the water like it was pure ambrosia. He wanted it, but he didn't trust them. His breath hitched, and he began to cough.

  "They fear him." He whispered and reached for the water obviously unable to resist his body's demand for it. His fingers wrapped around the bottle and held it for a moment before lifting it to his lips and with a sigh, drank.

  Silas watched and waited as the man drank every drop, careful not to spill any. He was treating the cheap plastic bottle like it was precious, and the sight touched Silas. He finished what was in the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He stared into Silas's eyes, and it was then that realization hit him and the peace that had touched his expression for a split second was gone.

  A frightened rage exploded in the depths of his blue gaze just before he dropped to the wooden floor out cold from the drug that had been put in the water. Silas was suddenly struck with a crushing sense of betrayal. The man’s shattered expression caused pain in Silas that reached right into his heart. He never in his life wanted to see that expression on his beloved again.

  Silas moved towards him and broke the chains from his wrists and tossed them aside. He then gathered the unconscious man into his arms and stood to turn towards Ira. Ira looked at him and then at the man in his arms and asked. "You know him?"

  "He's mine," Silas said, and the implication was clear in Ira’s shock which he suppressed immediately and turned to lead Silas from the small room. The ot
hers stood around the room but did not question. Silas projected a fierce determination and protective posture that spoke for itself.

  They reached the car and Ira opened the back door so Silas could easily slip inside with the man still in his arms. Silas was relieved that Ira understood the urgency and the connection between them without explanation. Silas was operating on autopilot and had not stopped to consider the entire situation only that he needed to secure the man and get him away from the others. He had to protect, defend, and serve this man, this stranger, his beloved. What a kick in the head this day turned out to be, he thought as he stared down at the sleeping man lying in his arms.

  “Do you want to go to the Toledo coven or back home?” Ira asked.

  “Home.” Silas wanted his beloved to have the superior care and protection of the DuCane Coven. Also, he and Ira had a job to finish. “Once he’s settled you and I need to find and end the men who did this.”

  "With pleasure," Ira assured with a nod.

  …

  Silas had alerted his father of the circumstances and was told everything would be prepared and to bring his beloved straight to the medical wing. They didn't meet him outside with a gurney or try to take the man from him, they knew better. This was Silas's beloved, and he would not be able to release him until he laid him before the doctor.

  The ride home had been comforting and agonizing in equal measures. Having him in his arms safe from further threat and harm was assuring, knowing the perpetrators were still out there walking free was close to unbearable.

  The man was covered in brutal bite marks, the vampire who fed from him was purposely rough and cruel. He held no regard for the life of this man and treated him like garbage just to use and then throw away. The thought had Silas boiling with rage for his beloved. To be held captive and used in such a way was barbaric.

  Ira handed him several wet wipes from the glove compartment, and he managed to wash away some of the grime from the man's handsome face. Long dark lashes fanned out across the top of his high cheekbones and his lips, full and flushing pink called to something deep within Silas. "I wish I knew his name," Silas said while staring at the sleeping man. "I don't know his name."

  "He was ferocious," Ira commented with admiration. "For a human and in such a compromised condition, he put up an impressive resistance. I've never seen a human fight so hard."

  "He is a warrior." Silas agreed with a soft smile. Silas had wrapped him in a blanket when they got to the car since he was wearing only his boxer briefs. His body, although ravaged, was firm and his strength was evident. His brown hair unkempt and in disarray hung long nearly touching his shoulders. When clean and styled, it was probably breathtaking. This man was breathtaking, Silas admitted. Why couldn't they have met before this tragedy befell him?

  "Never thought I'd find my beloved in this condition," Silas stated thoughtfully. "I thought about my beloved often as all vampires do, but I just assumed he would be strong and healthy when I found him. Never thought I'd have to save his life and our beginning would be a time for anger, sadness, and despair." He was whining, but he needed to get it out of his system. His beloved was in pieces, and he would have to be healed mentally and physically before any relationship would be possible.

  "He's gorgeous, and he's yours." Was all that Ira said as he broke into his grumblings and it struck Silas like a slap. All his muttering about the condition of his beloved fled his mind and heart, and he was filled with the proper gratitude that the man was alive, and he was with him. Nothing else really mattered.

  "Yes, he's gorgeous, and he's mine."

  Silas drew him up close and hugged him while burying his face in the man's hair. His scent was covered with the smells of that ghastly room, but his own personal aroma still managed to push through. It was the night wind in the flower bed garden at Coven DuCane. He smelled like fresh flowers in the moonlight. "I'm a lucky man, and I know it," Silas admitted with appreciation.

  He was holding onto his beloved with firm hands and a determination that nothing more was to happen to the poor man. No more pain, no more humiliation only peace and love and healing. When they arrived, Silas carried him to the medical wing and through to the examination room. He eyed the doctor from across the table and waited. His father came in and stood beside him.

  "Put him on the table Silas, Dr. Evens is going to examine him. You can stay and watch but don't interfere. The Doctor is here to help, let him do his job." Ismael placed his hand on his son's forearm, and Silas looked down at the man in his arms.

  "They tortured him, Dad. Tortured him nearly to death." Silas said, and Ismael squeezed his arm, letting him know he sympathized and was there for him.

  “Let Dr. Evens examine him.” Silas stepped forward and laid the still unconscious man on the examination table.

  "I had to sedate him in order to get him here. He fought us hard, he didn't know we were there to rescue him. He's going to be damn pissed when he wakes up." Silas moved to stand with his father a few feet from the table, but his eyes never left the man lying there. "He's beautiful, isn't he, Dad?"

  “He’s beautiful, son.”

  …

  Wolfe was hearing voices. He never heard voices unless Raymond was coming to feed or let one of his friends feed from him. They always kept him drugged because he wasn't docile like the others. It was so hard to focus, but he wasn't going easy. He wasn't going to let them kill him without a fight. The others thought if they stayed calm and gave them what they wanted that their lives would be spared, Wolfe knew the truth. They were all dead the moment they entered the house. No one was getting out alive.

  He began to try to force himself awake and thought he felt his hand move, but suddenly it was engulfed by a large rough hand, and the fingers gently stroked his palm. The feeling was somehow hypnotic, and he felt himself easing away from the fight. No touch had ever been to comfort always to hurt or satisfy the need of another. This touch was warm and dare he say loving in its ministration. The drugs they were using must be crippling his mind, but at least it was pleasure he felt for a change and not agony.

  "Your touch is calming him." Dr. Evens told him as he proceeded to examine the man's injuries. Silas held his hand and brushed the hair back from his forehead, letting his fingers gently graze the soft skin.

  "Apart from what you can clearly see, he has some internal issues with bruised ribs, and his lungs have been compromised by the damp and dust he was forced to breathe. Also, there are the effects of severe blood loss." Dr. Evens looked up at Silas. "All of those can be healed if you feed him. Vampire blood is always effective, but the blood of a beloved is beyond powerful when it comes to healing."

  Silas did not hesitate for a moment. This was something he normally found to be disgusting, but not where his beloved was concerned. This was different, this was so very different. He bit into his wrist and pressed the open wound to the man’s mouth. “Drink, my love.” He whispered and just like that the man latched on and began sucking.

  The sensations were immediate, and Silas felt himself tensing and resisting the urge to take his beloved right there in front of everyone. The desire spiked to unheard-of proportions as he fought to quell his vampire instincts. This was not the time nor the place, but his body was fighting him every step of the way.

  Dr. Evens nodded, and Silas slowly disengaged his wrist from his beloved's questing mouth. He licked the wound closed and then placed a soft kiss to his beloved's lips, tasting himself and also the unique flavor of this man. The kiss eased Silas's anxiety over the health of his beloved as he felt the life and vitality returning beneath his touch.

  Silas grabbed the Doctor's wrist when he was about to administer a shot to the man's arm. "It's just a sedative. He needs to sleep and heal. If he wakes now, it could slow his progress or make his condition worse. The shot will not hurt him, I promise." Dr. Evens spoke clearly. He saw the fierceness in Silas's eyes and was not about to antagonize him. He waited for permission.

  “It�
��s okay Silas.” Ismael came up to place his arm around his son. “Your beloved needs to rest.” Silas released Dr. Evens and watched as he administered the drug that would keep his beloved asleep for a while longer.

  Silas understood what he was doing, but a part of him rebelled at the poor man being drugged against his will once again even though it was for his own good. Dr. Evens left the room and Silas tucked the blanket in around his beloved and arranged his pillow before turning his attention to his father.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Was Easton able to find any information on him?” He asked eager hope filling his words.

  "Let's step out, your beloved needs quiet and rest," Ismael suggested and took Silas by the upper arm urging him towards the door. "You can still see him." He told him indicating the large window in the door that looked out into the waiting area. Silas relented and with one more look back at the sleeping man, followed his father out of the room.

  Easton was there, and they sat down next to him one on either side. "First, congratulations on finding your beloved and also my sincerest wish that he recovers soon," Easton told him.

  "Thank you," Silas said and waited.

  “Your beloved’s name is Wolfe Reynolds, no middle name. He may look older, but your beloved is only twenty-two.” That surprised Silas he knew he was young but assumed he was older than twenty-two, but it didn’t matter. What was most important was that he now had a name for the utterly fascinating man. Wolfe, he thought, what a perfect name for such a wild man.

  "There is no record of him being reported missing, but he works at the Silk Street Bar as one of their dancers, and he hasn't been to work in over a week. Simon was grabbed from there so I would assume Raymond Roya grabbed Wolfe as well. It's not the sort of establishment that keeps track of their employees. Everyone is on contract so if you don't show up for work, they just call someone else." Easton continued with the information.